


take advantage of the blue

by if_i_be_waspish



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: AU, F/M, Phone sex operator AU, Starts out fairly innocuously, john barrowman makes an appearance, questions to fall in love, there's a whole thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-10-04 15:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20473559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/if_i_be_waspish/pseuds/if_i_be_waspish
Summary: Restless and lonely in Cardiff one Friday night, Matt phones a sex operator hotline on a whim. Alex answers.xShe laughs again, and he hears a bit of exasperation in it this time, “Honey, for two pounds a minute to wank you can at least pretend you’re talking to someone you’re attracted to.”Matt sits up straighter on his couch, spluttering a bit, “What – I don’t want to – I didn’t call to… to… wank.” He drops his voice to a whisper.Silence.“… Lucy?”“Again with the air quotes,” she laughs, “Pardon me, but if you didn’t call a sex hotline to wank – why did you call, then?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: I haven't finished this story in its entirety as of yet (I've got a couple of chapters left to go) - I'm posting in the hopes that your comments and readership inspire me to actually finish this one. 
> 
> x
> 
> story title taken from "The Blue" by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit.

Matt Smith sits alone in the middle of his apartment in Cardiff trying to pretend the walls aren’t closing in on him as he stares at the wall from his ratty grey couch. It’s Friday night and while there is certainly not much to do in Cardiff on a Friday night, his cast mates – and mates in general these days – Karen and Arthur are out at a pub, drinking, laughing, having a generally good time.

And he is here. In his flat. Alone.

He’s just broken up with his girlfriend – it was his choice, and he thinks he should be less sad about it, but these things are always hard. And even if they _were _still together, it’s not like she’d be here in Cardiff with him anyway since he’s filming and she lives in London, so feeling this aching sense of loneliness just feels a bit silly.

But he can’t help it – he’s about to be thirty soon, and it feels like a somber milestone. He hadn’t expected to feel anything about turning thirty, but he’s found himself feeling a bit of anxiety creeping up about it; he doesn’t even want to settle down, have a family, he’s not sure if he really ever does, but the impending milestone birthday and his recent breakup leaves him feeling a bit melancholy.

Karen had tried to convince him to come out with them, to go to the pub and meet a girl he could forget his sorrows in, but he just doesn’t have that type of anonymity right now. His turn as the Doctor on _Doctor Who_ had gone over better than anyone anticipated, and he’s been inundated with women who would love to have one night with him just to sell it to the rags. He can’t deal with that right now, and he can’t deal with trying to sift through the women to find the one who isn’t like that – he doesn’t have the energy.

So he’d declined, choosing instead to stay in his flat and mope, which has never really been his style. Sighing, he flicks on the telly, not really sure what he will find since it’s closing in on two in the morning and he’s unable to sleep. He flips through the channels mindlessly, finally landing on something that looks pretty vapid, nothing that will keep him too invested. He doesn’t have the energy for that, either.

Matt sighs, dropping his head back on the couch and trying to turn his mind off – it races from one thing to the next, loneliness an undercurrent, a constant buzzing he wish he could just shut off. It’s driving him mad, truly, and he wonders if maybe he _should _have just gone out with Kaz and Arthur, maybe relieving his tension could get rid of this ache of loneliness, too.

He shakes his head, focusing on the TV just as an advert switches on – it’s a sultry thin woman with deep black hair, not at all Matt’s type, but the tenor of her voice makes him sit up a little bit on the couch. She’s looking straight in the camera, smirking, and she’s talking – her voice sexy and sweet and a number flashes underneath her face, blinking in red and white.

_Don’t wait, call now_, she whispers as the number continues to flash on screen.

Matt sits up a bit, suddenly intrigued. He’s seen these adverts before, sure. He and his mates used to make fun of them in Uni, his mate Dennis had actually drunkenly called a line one night and they’d had a great laugh until Dennis got his phone bill a couple of weeks later.

But he’d never seriously called one – always thought they were for blokes who couldn’t get laid, and honestly, that had never really been a problem of his. It’s still not a problem of his, he knows, but it’s become increasingly more difficult to do so enjoyably what with his increasing fame.

And everyone knows who he is – it’s a bit embarrassing, actually; sometimes even just walking down the street feels like a chore. It’s not that he’s not thankful – he is – but sometimes he does miss just being a normal bloke who could go into a pub, chat up a girl, and take her home without it being in the bloody news the next day.

He’d never known there could be so many naughty puns for _Doctor Who _until he took this role.

Suddenly, his phone is in his hand and he’s unlocked it and is dialing the number, a little thrill running through him because it feels a bit taboo, calling a sex line. It _is _a bit taboo, he supposes, especially for someone like him. If anyone ever found out about it, he’d be torn to shreds in the press.

The phone rings, and each ring sends the same little thrill shooting through his blood until finally the call connects with an operator. The operator is female with a slightly nasal voice and Matt nearly hangs up because _honestly, what is he even doing_?

But then the operator asks for his preferred name, what he’d like the operator he matches with to call him and he finds himself muting the television and tucking his legs up underneath him as he situates himself on the couch, his phone pressed tightly to his ear.

“Matt,” he says, clearing his voice.

“Hi, Matt, thanks for calling,” the operator says, and Matt stays silent because it feels like a weird thing to reply to.

After the operator takes some basic information from him – including whether he’d like to speak to a man or woman, if he has any particular kink he’d like to be met (woman and _uh, no_) he decides a fifteen minute session will be quite enough time at two pounds a minute and the operator places him on hold.

The hold music kicks on and it’s a slow sort of sensual jazz that isn’t as unpleasant as most hold music. A bit relaxing, really, which makes perfect sense as most people who call this sort of hotline – or at least a lot of them – are probably nervous. And Matt is, he finds, suddenly nervous. His blood rushes through his body and he feels the adrenaline start to kick in.

He considers hanging up, can feel his senses tingling at the back of his mind and he very nearly comes to them, but if he hangs up now he’ll still be charged – and honestly, more than that, he’s _curious_. In the minutes he’s been on the phone, he hasn’t thought about his loneliness once – hasn’t thought about his ex at all – hasn’t thought about the _future _or _fame _or all of the expectations constantly placed on him.

Finally, after a few minutes where the nerves trickle through his body, the phone starts ringing again and the nerves speed up, rush his blood through his veins again and he can hear it in his ears.

After the third ring, a voice comes on the line, “Hello, _big boy_, thanks for calling.”

Matt’s mouth drops open at the sound of the voice. It’s husky and melodious and is the stuff of wet dreams, honestly. It sounds like sex – like what actual sex would sound like if it were just a disembodied voice.

It’s such a cheesy, ridiculous line but in _her _voice it sounds like the most sensual thing he’s ever heard and he feels his cock twitch in his joggers.

After a moment too long, he finds his own voice, “Erm, uh, hi,” he presses his eyes shut because he _definitely _squeaked a bit on that one.

“Hi, Matt,” the voice says, and _god _the sound of his name in her mouth is sinful. It’s actual sin and he didn’t even know voices could _purr _like that. “What’s on the menu for tonight, then?”

“I…” He trails off because – well, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. It was just a lark, some impulsive decision he made, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was hoping to get out of a call like this. He knows what most blokes who call this hotline are hoping to get, but in reality phone sex with a complete stranger – even one who sounds like this woman does – feels a bit weird, “What should I call you?”

“Whatever you want to call me,” she says, that sultry tone still in her voice.

Matt smiles – he can hear the edge in her voice, like she always says this, like men and women call to forget someone but only end up remembering them, instead.

“And what if I want to call your name?”

“Not calling to get over someone?” She asks, and Matt can almost hear the smirk in her voice. When he doesn’t respond – since he’s not really sure _why _he’s calling, she sighs, “You can call me Lucy.”

Matt narrows his eyes in suspicion even though she can’t see him, “Is that your _real _name?”

She laughs, a full-blown laugh that cuts right into his heart and nestles there, “Tonight it is.”

Matt sighs, admitting defeat, “Fine,” he leans his back into the couch, “Lucy.”

“I can practically _hear _those air quotes, Matt.” The woman says, a hint of humor in her voice and Matt can’t help but laugh.

Matt tries to picture her – tries to imagine what she might look like, where she is. He has no idea how these sorts of things work, whether they’re in cubicles in a call center somewhere in the city center or if she maybe works from home. That seems a bit forward to ask, but his curiosity can’t stop the first question from spilling from his mouth, “What do you look like?”

She pauses, “What do you want me to look like?”

Matt sighs, feeling slightly annoyed. He knows she’s just doing her job, trying to play into whatever fantasy the caller has, but the thing is that he doesn’t _have _a fantasy, not right now.

Even before he was famous he didn’t really go for anonymous sex, liked to get to know a girl a bit first – and apparently that doesn’t change just because this encounter is happening over the phone.

At his silence, she sighs, clearly a bit frustrated in return, “What’s your usual type? Dream girl, describe her.”

Matt thinks about it – he’s had a few serious girlfriends in his life and they all look a bit different; different hair, different features, different personalities. But he’s always had a type he’s mostly attracted to, the type of girl he always finds his eyes drawn to in a bar, “Tall,” he starts, still considering – imagining he’s meeting a girl out somewhere for the first time, “Brunette – with long hair and dark eyes,” he smiles, “Olive skin, trim waist, slim hips, pert breasts, a nice arse.” He finishes, the girl he’d conjured appearing behind his eyelids.

“I look like that.” She says, her voice dropping low.

“You don’t,” Matt says, shaking his head.

She laughs again, and he hears a bit of exasperation in it this time, “Honey, for two pounds a minute to wank you can at least pretend you’re talking to someone you’re attracted to.”

Matt sits up straighter on his couch, spluttering a bit, “What – I don’t want to – I didn’t call to… to… wank.” He drops his voice to a whisper.

Silence.

“… Lucy?”

“Again with the air quotes,” she laughs, “Pardon me, but if you didn’t call a _sex hotline _to wank – why _did _you call, then?”

Matt runs his hand over his face and makes a sound somewhere between a grimace and a grunt because he _still _doesn’t know why he called, not really. It just seemed like a thing to do, and before he could even consider the ramifications his fingers had dialed the number and he was giving the operator his credit card information. Which, actually, wasn’t the brightest idea – but there were enough Matt Smiths in the universe that it would probably be fine.

“I…” He pauses, not sure how much to give away, what to say, how pathetic he wants this nameless, faceless woman to think he is, “I was lonely, I guess.” He opts for the truth – he usually does.

“Ah,” she says, though he hears a bit of warmth slide back into her voice, “The human condition.”

Matt barks out a laugh, “Too right,” he drops his head down on the back of his couch and stares at the ceiling, “You ever have a milestone birthday?”

She snorts, “I’ve had a few.” He hears a bit of rustling on her side of the line before she speaks again, “You’ve one coming up?”

He nods before he remembers he’s on the phone, “Yeah,” he doesn’t tell her which one, “And it’s – well, I never thought I’d honestly care about something like that. Age is just a number and all that, but… well, I’ve somehow started to care.”

“Birthdays tend to do that,” she replies, and it feels like she’s actually listening to him – he hasn’t had that in awhile. Everyone else around him – with the exception of Kaz and Arthur most times – seems to just be waiting for their turn to talk.

It makes him want to open up to her, makes him want to tell her his life story and not leave out any of the sad, broken bits that no one ever wants to hear. Maybe it’s easier because she’s a stranger, maybe it’s because she doesn’t know him or what he does or who he’s become – or maybe it’s something else, something more. But whatever it is or isn’t, he finds himself _talking_.

“And I’ve just broken up with my girlfriend which is _fine_, honestly, but it’s kicked up all of these other feelings and made me start to really think about things. I’ve… I mean, I’m successful now, but my…” he trails off, trying to think of the proper phrasing to not reveal too much, “_Industry _is volatile, so what success I have now could be gone tomorrow and _then who will I be_?”

The line is quiet for awhile before her soft voice comes through – it’s still the sexiest thing he’s ever heard, but it feels like maybe he’s talking to _her _– whoever she is – for the first time tonight.

“You’ll be who you’ve always been,” she sighs, and Matt imagines her running her hand through her hair – blonde maybe, or black – “Take this with a grain of salt because you _are_ speaking to a sex phone operator but… there’s no roadmap of success, darling.”

Matt feels emotion catch in his throat at the term of endearment and feels a bit emotional.

“You just do the best you can and you hope it works out – and if it doesn’t…” she clears her throat, “You just pick yourself up and carry on. _That’s _the true human condition, actually. Carrying on when you’re certain you can’t anymore. Trudging through the loneliness and hoping something’s on the other side.”

Matt’s throat goes dry – he feels a spark shoot through him at her tone, at her words, because he feels connected to her and he absolutely shouldn’t. They’ve just met – and they haven’t even done that, he doesn’t even know her bloody name.

He clears his throat, “Speaking from personal experience, Lucy?”

She laughs, but it sounds a bit sad, “That would be telling.” She clears her throat, “You’ve got about two minutes left on your time, fancy a quick wank?” She asks, “Want me to give you a quick aural blowjob?”

Matt barks out a laugh, though his cock _does _stir at the word _blowjob _out of that sinfully delicious throat; still, he’s just had a wonderful conversation with this woman, whoever she is, and he doesn’t want to cheapen it, “Not tonight,” he replies, a slow chuckle falling into the phone, “Maybe another time.”

She laughs slowly, “Alright, then, but I’m afraid you didn’t get your money’s worth tonight.”

Matt smiles, his eyes growing heavy, “I got my money’s worth and then some, I think,” he laughs, “I think the therapist line charges three pounds a minute. I got a right bargain, actually.”

She laughs, low and throaty, “So you did, darling.”

Silence falls once more and Matt is just about to say goodnight when he thinks better of it, “Lucy?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me something true,” Matt whispers like it’s a secret, like if he’s caught for asking he’ll be banned from calling again, “About you.”

There is a long pause in which Matt wonders if he’s overstepped some sort of boundary or protocol – he’s never done this before, he doesn’t know the rules, spoken or unspoken. He’s about to apologize profusely, he can _feel _the embarrassment creeping up his neck, can feel the stuttering apology crawling up his throat to lie on his tongue but it’s stopped by her voice.

“I like blue. The color,” she replies, voice soft and lilting like a lullaby, “It’s my favorite.”

“Blue?” Matt asks, a bit stunned that she replied at all.

“Mm,” she confirms, “It’s just… it’s happy, right?” She sounds wistful, almost longing, and Matt wishes he could see her face, “But it’s sad, too – it’s got shades of both, if you’re really looking. But the thing is – they’re all beautiful. Never met an ugly blue.”

Matt feels speechless, but he forces his mouth to move anyway, “I… I like that.”

She breathes out a sigh of what sounds like relief, “I’m glad.” She laughs, “Your time is up now, I’m afraid.”

Her words shake him out of his stupor and he shakes his head as if to clear it, “Right – that’s – okay right.” He clears his throat, “Thank you – for, um – the chat. It was… lovely. It was just what I needed, actually.” He laughs a bit uncomfortably, wondering how many men have said that to her after she’s made them come with her voice; he finds he doesn’t really want to think about it, “Goodnight, Lucy.”

“Goodnight,” she replies, and Matt thinks he hears a fondness in her voice – but considers that it’s probably just wishful thinking on his part. He’s just one of many in a long line of blokes for the night.

The phone is halfway from his ear and his finger is moving up to end the call when he hears her voice through the speaker.

“Matt?”

Fumbling with the phone, he puts it back up to his ear, “Yeah?”

She hesitates for a moment, the line painfully quiet before she speaks, “My name is Alex.”

The line goes immediately to a dial tone and an automated voice comes on giving him an easy to remember four-digit code he can use if he’d like to speak to that particular operator again. After it repeats twice, the line is finally silent and Matt brings the phone down from his ear and tosses it on the couch next to him.

He doesn’t realize until nearly five minutes later when he shuts the telly off and makes his way to his bedroom that he hasn’t stopped grinning since he heard her real name fall into his ear.

Matt crawls into bed and flicks off the light, pulling the covers up around his shoulders he finally falls asleep with a smile on his face and however rash and ridiculous it might be, a name in his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello, big boy,” she says, “I wasn’t sure you’d call again.”
> 
> Matt can’t be sure, of course, but he swears he hears a smile in her voice, like maybe she’s glad to hear from him again, “Hello, Alex,” he says brightly, the nerves still stuttering around in his stomach, “Did you know that after your first call they up the rate to three pounds a minute?”
> 
> Alex laughs slowly, “I did know that, yes.”

Matt spends the weekend with Kaz and Arthur, feeling significantly better about his situation. He doesn’t have any illusions about why that may be considering he spends the weekend thinking about Alex nearly non-stop, half the time with a ridiculous soppy grin on his face.

Arthur even comments on his improved mood, but Matt just smiles and shrugs. He considers calling the hotline over the weekend but he thinks maybe he should leave it as a one-off, a random beautiful connection with a stranger. It’s not because he’s worried he’s reading too much into it, of course. It’s not because he worries about the fact that he talked more candidly with a phone sex operator than he had with anyone in years, possibly ever.

The filming week flies by as it usually does for him as the lead, bringing with it long days and sometimes even longer nights that take a severe toll on his previously upturned mood.

By the time Friday comes around, he’s feeling moody and irritable and vaguely existential again. Kaz invites him out for what she very stupidly calls ‘weekend wind up’ on Friday night, but he isn’t interested.

He just wants to go home to his flat, throw his joggers and an old t-shirt on and relax, let the week roll off of him.

Karen rolls her eyes when he tells her that, her Scottish brogue filled with humor when she says, “God you really _are _an old man.”

Matt pays her very little mind, as usual, and goes home to his empty flat where he sits on his couch again pretending that it doesn’t feel like the walls are closing in on him. Where he pretends he doesn’t feel the existential crisis seeping into his bones yet again.

He makes it to midnight with his fingers itching for his mobile before he finally gives in. He searches through his call history, ignoring the burning shame as he passes ‘mum’ whilst searching for the number of the sex hotline.

Finding it, Matt dials, and when prompted he inputs the code given to him at the end of his last call that will connect him directly with Alex. When an automated voice informs him he has been put in a brief queue and will not be charged except for standard airtime rates, Matt feels the nerves he felt last Friday night return.

But they’re tinged with excitement now.

As he listens to the sensual jazz music, Matt tries very hard to not think about how ridiculous he’s being. He tries not to listen to the voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Kaz that tells him how pathetic he actually is.

One of the hottest stars in the U.K. right now, capable of getting in bed with any number of girls if he so chooses – gorgeous girls, at that – and he’s spending his Friday night calling a sex hotline. To _talk_.

He’s about to start down another path of self-flagellation when the music stops and the ringing begins. The nerves flutter in his stomach, and he doesn’t have time to think about how ridiculous he is because suddenly her voice is falling down the line and into his ear again.

“Hello, _big boy_,” she says, “I wasn’t sure you’d call again.”

Matt can’t be sure, of course, but he swears he hears a smile in her voice, like maybe she’s glad to hear from him again, “Hello, Alex,” he says brightly, the nerves still stuttering around in his stomach, “Did you know that after your first call they _up the rate _to three pounds a minute?”

Alex laughs slowly, “I did know that, yes.”

Matt resists the urge to smack himself on the forehead – _of course _she knew that, “How – how much of that do you get?” He queries, curious.

“It’s not polite to discuss money, darling, but let’s just say enough that I stay quite comfortably in this job.”

Matt laughs at the admonishment clearly delivered in good humor, “Well, any higher, I’m going to have to switch over to the therapist hotline.”

Alex laughs again and it’s melodious and beautiful and feels like warm copper in his veins, “Call for a proper wank this time, then?”

Matt chokes on a sip of water he’d just taken, “What? No, I –” 

“Stop sounding so scandalized, darling. This is a sex hotline, after all.”

Matt coughs a bit, pulling the phone away from his mouth to muffle the sound. His eyes are watering, but when he’s finally able to speak, he brings the phone back to his face, “Do you call all of your clients ‘darling’?”

There’s a loud silence on the other end of the line and Matt smiles with a sense of victory. She’s not saying it, but the answer is no.

Alex sighs, “If you didn’t call for a wank, why did you call?” She sounds a bit suspicious, and Matt doesn’t blame her. Goodness only knows the types of men she has to deal with on a regular basis.

“I called to hear your voice.” He answers honestly.

Her voice has been haunting him for precisely a week now, the low and smoky tone all he can hear sometimes, especially right before bed. It’s gotten to him somehow – she’s gotten to him, and all he really knows about her is that her name is Alex, she likes the color blue, and she makes him feel safe. Which is something he hasn’t felt in awhile, not since the fame train came for him and hasn’t slowed down since he hopped on.

She laughs softly this time, and Matt thinks he can hear a bit of fondness in her voice, “That’s what they all say.”

“Well,” Matt says, leaning back on his couch and kicking his feet up on his coffee table, “I mean it,” He drops his head back and closes his eyes, wanting to dull as many senses as possible so he can focus on her voice, “So, blue, huh? Like your eyes?”

There’s a pause and Matt tries not to hold his breath – he feels like this is a big moment, and he’s not sure why. He’d begged for her to tell him what she looked like last week, but she hadn’t budged.

She sighs, and Matt feels the disappointment sink in – he’s about to speak to change the subject when she sighs again.

“A bit.”

“A bit?” He asks, caught off guard and not really sure what she means.

“They’re kind of a blue-green. Not really solidly in one camp or the other, I’d say.”

Matt laughs at her description, “Indecisive eyes, Alex?”

“Oh no,” she says, letting her voice drop low, “My eyes typically know exactly what they want when they see it.” Even though Matt knows she has no idea who he is, what he looks like, he feels her words in his cock, “And what do you look like, then?”

Matt hums in thought – he had to describe himself in various emails and correspondences whenever he would audition, but it had admittedly been awhile. “Tall,” Alex hums at that on the other line, and he grins, “Brown hair – a bit long and shaggy most days,” he runs the hand not holding the phone through it, “Hazel eyes – also not indecisive.” He smiles at her light laugh, “Chin for days,” he describes, dropping his hand and tracing his chin with his index finger.

“Big chin?” Her voice sounds amused, playful, and it makes him grin.

“To say the least,” he confirms, “I used to get teased about it but I grew into it,” he shrugs even though she cannot see him, “Now I’m told it suits my face.”

Alex hums pensively, “A big chin certainly isn’t a bad thing – can be quite nice, actually,” she trails off, and Matt wonders if he’s imagining the suggestiveness in her tone, “Depends on the angle.”

Matt furrows his brow for a moment trying to think of what she could possibly – oh. _Oh_.

He suddenly has an image of her – some nebulous not fully formed vision of her because he still doesn’t know what she bloody well looks like – riding his face, her back in full view as his chin grinds relentlessly into her clit.

“Jesus, Alex,” he breathes out and she chuckles slowly and he’d never known a chuckle could be so damn sexy, “You’re going to have to tell me what you look like if you’re going to put images like _that _in my head,” he laughs, then drops his voice low – letting his desire coat it, “I’d like to picture you properly.”

Alex sighs, “Maybe later,” she clears her throat, “Sure you don’t want that wank _now_, darling?”

He kind of does. Her voice does things to him, but he’s finding himself a bit overly-sentimental and he wonders if bringing sex into this will change the dynamic between them. It sounds absurd – _is _absurd – he knows, but genuine human connection with someone who isn’t trying to use his fame to get ahead is such a rarity to him these days.

“Maybe later,” he says, echoing her, “Right now… I’d quite like to talk. With you.”

Alex laughs again, and _oh _it’s one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard. Every single time he draws it from her lips it’s somehow sweeter than the time before. He wonders if she’d taste like that – if she’d taste like her laughter: bright, beautiful, unapologetic.

“By all means then, darling, let’s talk.”

And they do. Matt talks about his day, about his life – while still not giving too much away. And to his utter surprise and delight, so does she. He asks her questions and she answers – they spend their chat laughing, flirting, smiling, and Matt is amazed at how easy the conversation flows between the two of them.

The thirty minutes fly by and when it’s time to say goodnight, he finds himself a bit sad, and more than a little reluctant to hang up the phone.

“They’re not going to raise the rate on me again, are they?” Matt asks after a moment.

“No,” Alex replies with a laugh, “If you call again, you’ll get the same rate – though I must say, I’m not sure you’re getting your money’s worth.”

“Oh, I am,” Matt assures, nodding enthusiastically, “I’ve felt better this thirty minutes than I’ve felt all day.” He sighs, “All week, honestly.”

Silence emanates from her end of the line, and Matt strains to hear, wondering momentarily if the call has ended and the recording skipped.

Finally, Alex clears her throat and her voice sounds a bit strange – like maybe she’s speaking around tears or something, “Me too, darling,” she whispers, “Me too.”

The line goes dead, the recording clicking on and the voice that he may have considered sensual before he ever spoke to Alex comes on, relaying information he already knows by heart, but which he writes down again on a pad of paper on his coffee table just in case.

Matt doesn’t want to forget how to contact her. He wants to talk to her again – she calms something in him he hadn’t even realized was wild. Her dulcet tones make him ache and feel fulfilled all at the same time; she instills a deep sense of longing within him, though he still can’t seem to figure out for _what_, precisely.

Shame be damned, he _needs _to talk to her again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No girls at the pub strike your fancy?” She asks, and Matt swears he hears a note of jealousy in her voice, and the notion makes him grin.
> 
> He snorts, “No. You weren’t at the pub.”
> 
> “Flatterer.” He can practically hear her rolling her blue-green eyes at him.
> 
> “No.” He shakes his head once.

And he does talk to her again. It becomes his Friday night ritual. Every week he makes sure to call her, looks forward to it all day, all week, feels so happy when he finally is settled on his couch and can hear her voice again.

Most weeks, he stays in – refuses to go out with Kaz and Arthur at all. They tease him for becoming a recluse, though, so he goes out with them to a pub for a beer or two but always manages to beg off soon enough to call Alex.

They talk about everything and nothing – she even starts opening up to him, telling him real, honest, and true things about herself and after only a handful of weeks it feels like they’ve known each other for years.

It begins to feel like the truest thing he’s ever known. _She _begins to feel like the truest thing he’s ever known, and with every chat, laugh, and inside joke, his fear is gradually replaced by exhilaration – by the wildness and still somehow utterly familiar of the unknown. Of _her_.

Tonight, though, Kaz dragged him to the pub where she wouldn’t let him leave until he’d had two and a half pints. She’d still tried to keep him there, being incredibly nosy about _why _he’s always checking the time on Friday nights or staying home at his flat like a ‘ridiculous shut-in’. He ends up snapping at her before she reluctantly backs off and lets him leave.

Ten minutes after he’s left the pub, he rushes through the door of his flat and settles on the couch with a bottle of water clutched to his chest. It’s an hour past when he usually calls Alex and he’s worried she’ll think he’s stood her up.

Matt snorts at that as he dials in her unique code – _stood up_. As though they’re dating. His heart sinks a bit at that – because he’d quite like to date her, actually, which makes him feel more than a little pathetic. But he can’t help it. He’s never met anyone like her. Never mind that he hasn’t actually even met _her _yet.

“Hello, _big boy_,” she says in that sultry tone that makes his cock half-hard when he hears it. She still calls him that and it makes him roll his eyes and smile all at once, “I thought you weren’t going to ring tonight.”

Her tone sounds light, but Matt thinks he hears a bit of anxiety underpinning it. It could be wishful thinking on his part, but maybe she looks forward to these calls as much as he does – that would make him slightly less pathetic, at least.

“Sorry I’m late,” he toes his shoes off and then kicks his feet up on his couch and rests his head on the arm, “My mates dragged me out to the pub and kept shoving pints in my face.”

Alex inhales sharply, and Matt doesn’t really understand why, “Ready for that wank then?”

Matt laughs and shakes his head – she always asks him some variation of that question during their conversations but he’s still never taken her up on it, though sometimes he feels his resolve begin to crumble. She’s so damn flirty and _sexy_.

They trade flirts and innuendo at a rapid pace and just the sound of her voice makes him hard most nights. But he still doesn’t know what she looks like and he wants to _see _her – at least a close approximation of her – the first time he comes to her voice.

“Not tonight.” He chuckles warmly.

“No girls at the pub strike your fancy?” She asks, and Matt _swears _he hears a note of jealousy in her voice, and the notion makes him grin.

He snorts, “No. You weren’t at the pub.”

“Flatterer.” He can practically hear her rolling her blue-green eyes at him.

“No.” He shakes his head once.

He sort of _wishes _he were, though, because she is all he can think about most days now. Her picture isn’t clear in his mind – how could it be? – but he thinks about her voice, about the shy way she says things sometimes, like she can’t believe she’s really telling him these things, that the truth falls from her lips when she speaks to him. He thinks about the way she says his name – the way she calls him big boy and darling and once, after they’d spent a session laughing at ridiculous things, _big darling_, and they’d laughed even more.

She is spectacular, Alex is, and he doesn’t even _know _her. And yet he feels like he knows her more than he’s known anyone in a long while – and certainly like she knows him more than anyone has in a long while. Possibly ever.

There are days he can’t decide if it’s romantic and sweet or the dumbest thing he’s ever done, developing this infatuation for a phone sex operator. And there are days he thinks it’s both – days he hates himself for it, days he’s thankful for it.

“Well, what do you want to talk about tonight then, darling?” She asks brightly.

Matt thinks, crossing his legs at the ankles – they never run out of things to talk about, he and Alex, but god help him he wants to know her more, learn her deeper, and he remembers an article his sister showed him last time he saw her, “Oh!” He sits up and grabs his laptop where it had fallen in between the sofa cushion and the end of the couch. Cracking it open, he holds his phone up with his shoulder, “My sister was telling me about this thing – this _list_…” He explains, typing in his password.

“How is your sister? Still going hot and heavy with what’s his name?”

Matt snorts, “Yeah, I guess.”

Alex laughs, “You said he was a good bloke.”

“I _reluctantly _said he’s a good bloke.” Matt brings up his browser and types in a search, “He’s still not good enough for her,” he mutters as his eyes scan the page of results from Google.

“She’s your sister,” Alex says, “No one ever will be,” she sighs, “It’s sweet that you’re so protective of her.”

She sounds reverent, a bit sad, like maybe she wished someone would have been more protective of her.

“Yeah, well…” Matt says, finding what he wants and clicking on it, “If you could tell her that…” He laughs, “Here it is! 36 questions that lead to love!” He reads excitedly s the page loads.

She smirks – he knows because he can hear it in her voice when she speaks, “36 questions that lead to _what_?”

He feels his face flush crimson, can actually _feel _the heat emanate from his face and for once he is quite thankful that she can’t see him because the way he, a grown man, blushes is just embarrassing.

“I mean… It…” He stammers, and feels his face burn even brighter.

Her voice is tentative, and there’s laughter in it, but something else buried underneath it that he can’t seem to quite place. “You want to fall in love with me?”

_Yes_. His fingers freeze on his trackpad, because of course he can’t say that – of course he can’t _mean _that, and he tries desperately to stop thinking about what it means if he actually does.

“No, I… just,” he flounders and he wonders if she’s laughing at him, “It’s just some _questions_, Alex.” He finally says, and she’s quiet, obviously thinking.

He wonders if she has any thinking habits – if she maybe cocks her head to the side, maybe toys with her hair, maybe closes her eyes – he hopes to find out someday. And if that’s a dangerous and weird place for his mind to go, he finds he just doesn’t care, and not for the pints he ingested at the pub. He _likes _her – more than he’s liked anyone in a long time and with him barreling rapidly towards thirty, he finds that’s what’s most important to him these days.

She’s still quiet and Matt resists the urge to ask her what she’s thinking; he holds his breath, instead, hoping he’s not ruined everything – not even knowing what there could possibly even be to ruin.

After a moment, Alex sighs – “Okay, darling,” she whispers, “Ask away.”

“The truth?”

He clearly doesn’t need to explain himself because she laughs and, he imagines, rolls her eyes, fondly exasperated with him like she always is.

“Yes, Matt. The truth.”

Matt grins, satisfied. He wants very little in this world more right now than to know Alex. To truly know her; whatever madness has overcome him, he welcomes it.

His eyes focus on the computer, “Okay – given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”

“Ooh,” Alex breathes out, “Good question,” she pauses, making a little sound that indicates she’s thinking about it and he knows it’s absurd to feel pride at the question since he didn’t think of it himself, but he still does a bit, “The Marquee de Sade,” she finally answers after a long moment.

Matt’s mouth goes dry, but he narrows his eyes, “Is that _your _answer, or…”

“Or the answer of a sex phone operator?” She supplies, “I _am _both, darling, don’t forget,” she explains patiently, “But the answer is mine. He’d be fascinating to speak to – he’d certainly have the most interesting stories, I think.”

Matt snorts, “To say the least.” He takes a sip of water and switches the phone to his other ear, “Are you a sadist, then? Masochist?”

Alex laughs again – low, throaty, and sensual, “I think a bit of both done right won’t go amiss now and then.”

Matt licks his lips slowly – _god_, this woman. She is surprising and refreshing and sensual and everything he learns about her intrigues him, painfully so.

“What about you, then?” She’s laughing at him and he bloody well loves it.

“Me? Oh…uh… I…” He stammers, “Yes. A bit of… both. Yes.”

Alex laughs again, a full-bodied sound that speaks of true joy. It’s one of his favorite sounds, he’s just decided. “No, I meant the dinner question, darling. But glad to know you’re up for a bit of adventure in the bedroom.”

Matt coughs – she’d meant – and he’d said – and _oh god_ is it possible for his face to actually burst into flames?

“Right.” He clears his throat and shakes his head, trying once again to get the nebulous images of her out of his head, “Well, the answer would change day to day… but for now – for _right _now… you.” He answers honestly. It’s ridiculous and quite possibly the most sickeningly sweet thing he’s ever said, but it’s the truth.

“And you say you’re not a flatterer,” she sighs dramatically, “If you want to get into my proverbial pants, darling, all you have to do is ask. You are paying for the privilege, you know.”

Yes, he does know, but he doesn’t much like to think about it like that. Makes him a bit jumpy and nervous when he remembers. Eyes continuing down the page, he selects another question, skipping right over ‘would you ever want to be famous? In what way?’ Because he really doesn’t want to open _that _can of worms right now.

“What could constitute a perfect day for you?” He reads, wondering what sort of insight into her he can glean from her answer.

“Hmm,” she contemplates, “You go first for this one – I’ve got to think.”

Matt smiles, closing his eyes and imagining the perfect day – “It’d just be an easy day, I think. A relaxing day. I don’t get many of those these days, honestly. If I’m wishing, I’d wake up next to someone I love and who loves me – desperately, of course – and we’d eat breakfast together. We’d go on a stroll around a park, maybe, have a little picnic for lunch. Take a nap sprawled out on the blanket – I’d get to kick a football around a bit, and then dinner with my family, maybe.” He laughs, “Then maybe the pub or a club.”

“Oh,” Alex drawls, “That sounds like a lovely day, darling. But a pub?” She laughs, “You _are _young!”

Matt laughs, “I’m not _that _young.” She knows he’s young and she teases him about it – he’s caught on that she’s older, but he has no idea by how much and frankly, he doesn’t really care, “My day would be fantastic, pub and all. And it’s your turn.”

And his perfect day when he thinks about it in his mind’s eye absolutely does _not _include her – no, of course not. That would be brash and ridiculous and just about the bloody stupidest thing he’s ever done which is saying something because he’s done _a lot _of stupid things in his life.

Well. He doesn’t _tell _her that, at least. If the woman in his perfect day just so happens to have her voice, he keeps it to himself.

“A perfect day – _everything _would be slow. A slow morning, slowly sipping tea on a balcony that overlooks a beautiful garden – mine or someone else’s. Pop in to a few museums, take in some exhibits – just _enjoy _the day, I guess?” She sighs, “Sometimes being alive is so frantic, so hectic – a perfect day for me is where that all just falls away, no thought of where I’ve been or even where I’m going. And warm arms to fall into at night – still slowly.”

Her voice has taken on a dreamy quality as she’s been speaking, and Matt feels entranced by it at the same time he fells lulled. _This woman_. He wonders how many times he will think that, but she is just – indescribable to him – it’s indescribable to him how the rest of the world falls away when he talks to her, just like it would for her in her perfect day.

There’s a beauty in that, even if it’s one-sided, even if he’s the only one who feels it.

“That’s,” he smiles, “That’s a really lovely day, Alex.”

“Thank you,” she replies, and he can hear the smile in her voice, can hear that she’s pleased he likes her description, “We’ve time for one more, I think,” she says, and he can hear a bit of sadness edge into her voice.

“Right,” he looks at the clock, a sense of sadness sweeping over him, too, “For what in your life do you feel most grateful?”

Alex’s end of the line falls quiet before she speaks, a long pause, “You first.”

Matt sits up on his couch, tucking his legs underneath him, “My career,” he clears his throat and then rushes to explain, “I know that sounds shallow – but – I was a football player and had a real shot of making a real go of it until I hurt my back. I never thought I’d find something I loved as much – thought my dream died in that doctor’s office,” he shakes his head, “But now I get to do something I love – and it’s – it’s more than I ever hoped for myself back then.”

“It doesn’t sound shallow, Matt, not at all,” she speaks quietly, “And I’m so glad you’re happy in your career – so happy that you found a new dream.”

“Thanks,” he whispers, and wonders why he feels suddenly emotional, why he feels tears pricking behind his eyes, the familiar burn of emotion in his chest, “What about you?”

She’s quiet again and the silence feels heavy in a way he doesn’t understand, feels like a silence on the verge of something but he doesn’t have any idea what.

Finally, she takes a deep breath and then exhales, “My daughter.”

Matt’s heart feels giddy – feels like it’s floating in his chest because she’d shared this with him – something true and honest and so incredibly personal, “Oh, you’ve a daughter?”

“Yes,” she says the word with a clear smile in her voice, “She’s my world. My absolute world.”

Matt smiles at the happiness of her voice – he wants to ask her more, wants to ask her how old she is, what her name is, what she’s like, does she have her mother’s eyes? But he doesn’t want to push the boundary – even this admission was hard for her, he can tell, and any more might scare her away.

She opens up to him in bits and pieces, and he wants to collect them all to make a mosaic of her, of who she is and who she will become to him, on the largest canvas he can find – or maybe just his heart.

So he doesn’t ask, instead he just smiles, “I’d like to hear about her someday.”

“Thank you,” Alex whispers, and Matt _knows _she understands his meaning, knows he’s being careful and delicate and she appreciates it.

Suddenly, though, a thought occurs to him – and he doesn’t want to ask, he doesn’t want to _know _if the answer is yes, but he has to. He can’t let himself fall down whatever rabbit hole he’s already halfway in without knowing – not that he could stop it, anyway, but it will be a different kind of madness.

“You’re not…” He trails off, hating himself for having to ask, hating himself for falling into _something _with a woman he’s never even met, “You’re not married, are you?”

Alex laughs – and he can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but he still loves the sound of it too much for his own good. Could die a happy man if it was the last thing that he ever heard.

“No, darling,” she speaks tenderly, and Matt releases a breath on a sigh, “Not anymore.”

He’s grinning – and he shouldn’t be grinning at a divorce or – god forbid, something worse – but he can’t help it. Because it’s the answer he wanted, and he feels the smile distort his face, knows he looks like a fool but can’t stop anyway.

He opens his mouth to say something, his eyes closed in happiness, when he hears something – something in his flat.

“Oi, what are you doing, stupid face?”

Matt’s eyes fly open and he sees a slightly pissed Karen and an annoyed-yet-slightly-bemused Arthur standing in his doorway.

“What are you grinning about, you big idiot? And who are you talking to, anyway?” Karen asks loud and Scottish from the doorway. “Is this why you’ve been spending all your Friday nights alone in your bloody flat?”

“Shit,” he breathes out, running a hand over his face, “I’ve got to – I’ve got to go.”

“Girlfriend?” Alex’s voice sounds tight with the question.

“What? No!” Matt rushes to correct her, “Dear _god_ no,” Matt looks at Karen where she stands in the doorway, “Not even a _friend _at the mo’.” He narrows his eyes at Karen and she rolls hers dramatically. “I’m single,” he drops his voice to speak into the phone, not really caring that Karen and Arthur can hear, suddenly only concerned with reassuring Alex.

Which sounds barmy, he knows. Alex probably doesn’t give a toss whether he’s single or not, but on the off chance she does, he doesn’t want her to think he’s some kind of barbarian. Loser who falls in love with a voice on the other end of the phone is bad enough.

He stands up and walks to the kitchen, turning his back to Arthur and Karen.

“Okay,” Alex is laughing again and all is right with the world, “Time’s up then, _big boy_,” Matt bites his lip and stifles a groan earning him another laugh from Alex and he doesn’t even care that it’s at him this time, “Talk to you next week?” She gasps like she hadn’t meant to ask that but the fact that she _did _ask that makes Matt grin again, makes his blood rush through his body with anticipation and the stupid hope that he’s not alone in this sea of ridiculous feelings in which he suddenly finds himself swimming.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Alex,” Matt says, his voice slow and deliberate.

“Goodnight, darling,” Alex whispers and the line goes dead before he can reply.

He takes the phone from his ear and ends the call, but he can’t help but stare at the phone in his hand for a minute, a soppy grin on his face as he does. He’s so engrossed in his elation that he doesn’t hear Karen come up behind him – before he knows it, she’s ripped the phone from his hands and is darting off down the hall of his flat.

Before he can even turn to chase her, to demand his phone back, she has the door to his bathroom closed and locked, she and his phone tucked away. Still, he runs to the door anyway, his fist banging on it.

“Kazza!” He yells, putting his mouth near the door, “Give me my phone back!”

“No!” She shrieks from the other side of the door, “You’ve been secretive for over a month now, and I want to figure out what’s going on!”

“Karen!” Matt says, his fist still pounding, knowing it’s futile. Karen isn’t usually this invasive, but she’s had a few drinks and he knows there’s no stopping her. Matt bangs on the door a few more times anyway and then turns to look at Arthur, standing in the hallway. “A little help?”

Arthur snorts, shrugging, “What? Like she listens to _me_?”

Matt slumps his shoulders, turning back to the door, his hand resting on it instead. Finally, after several moments of silence, the door opens and Karen stands in front of him, her long red hair falling around her shoulders, her mouth wide open, his phone pulled slightly away from her ear. He can hear the recording of the phone sex hotline and Matt’s face heats up as the anger rushes through his body – he’s suddenly incensed, and he knows it likely has something to do with the way Karen is looking at him now.

“You had _no right_,” Matt grits out, reaching forward for his phone and grabbing it from her hands. He jams his thumb on the end call button and shoves it in his pocket, trying to resist the urge he feels to yell at Karen. She’s nosy when she’s drunk, but equally weepy and he wants to sit in his indignation at the invasion of privacy a bit longer.

Karen clears her throat and pushes her hair out of her face, her jaw still hanging open, “A _sex hotline_, Matt?” She asks incredulously, “Really?”

Matt hears Arthur make a choking noise behind him and he turns over his shoulder to glare at him before whipping back around to face Karen.

“It’s none of your business,” Matt says hotly, though he feels more embarrassed than he would like.

“Matt…” Karen says, her eyes wide, “_Why_?” She whispers, shaking her head, “That’s what I don’t understand – you could… you could have any number of girls you fancied. A _sex hotline_?”

“Karen,” Matt sighs, leaning against the wall of his hallway, “You know what it’s like for me – it’s… it’s not the same, everyone just wants what I can _do _for them.”

“I know,” Karen’s eyes suddenly soften, “I _know _that, Matt, but… a sex hotline?” She scoffs, glancing over at Arthur who has remained silent before looking back at him, “You just… what? Call and have a… god, I don’t even want to say it.”

“No!” Matt runs his hand through his hair; he doesn’t want to discuss _any _of this with Karen and Arthur – he doesn’t want to discuss this with anyone – but they are his friends. They’re on his side, and he’s not had anyone to talk to about it, “We haven’t even… we don’t talk about sex.”

Karen’s jaw drops further open and if Matt weren’t so emotional right now – some strange mix of angry, embarrassed, and relieved – he’d want to laugh at her. He’d tease her about how ridiculous she looks.

“So you just call up different girls from the hotline and… chat with them? About what? About the weather?”

“Karen…” Arthur’s voice cuts in, warning.

“No, I’m sorry, I need to understand what this is, Arthur,” Karen explains, shaking her head, her eyes still focused on Matt.

Matt grits his teeth, “Not different girls.”

Karen’s eyes widen, “So – what, the _same girl_?” She gasps, “You’ve been talking to the same girl every week – and… your _face _when I came in! Matt!”

Matt sighs, resigned, he’s come this far – is this really worse than letting his friends think he gets his rocks off on phone sex with a stranger every week? He doesn’t know, can’t tell, and doesn’t care.

“I _know_, okay?” He stares at Karen, “I _know_.”

“You’re… _in love _with her? The phone sex operator?” Karen tries, he knows she does, but she can’t keep the shock out of her voice.

“That’s a bit strong,” Matt says, but his heart beats a different response, “But… I’m in _something _with her. And she has a name. It’s Alex.”

Karen walks further into the bathroom and sits on the edge of his bathtub, mouth still agape.

“What are you doing?” She questions, her fingers gripping the porcelain of his tub, “What are you honestly doing, Matt?” She shakes her head, “If anyone found out about this – god, Matt, the press – they would lose their minds right before you lost your job.”

“Karen…” Matt warns.

“Darvill,” Karen looks at Arthur who still stands silent in the hallway, “Back me up here.”

“It _would_ be bad, mate.” Arthur says, though he seems to be taking this much more in stride than Karen has.

“You think I don’t know that, really? You lot think I just _decided _to do this – that I’m going to ring up the papers and announce it?” Matt stands straighter against the wall, pressing his back into hit, “No. No, this just happened – I was lonely a few weeks ago and I saw a bloody commercial and I called. I shouldn’t have, but I did – and Alex is… she’s… incredible.” He finishes, not really sure what else to say about her.

“Matt, but you –”

“Karen,” Arthur cuts in, “It sounds like he’s thought about this – and I think maybe we should leave him alone and call it a night?”

She sighs, looking between Matt and Arthur, “Okay, right.” She nods her head once, then stands up from the bathtub. When she passes Matt, she stops, facing him, “Just… be careful, Matt,” her eyes are soft and kind and worried; they don’t hold an ounce of judgment and the relief washes through him, “I know I tease you a lot – and you _do _have a very stupid face, but… I don’t want to see you lose everything.”

Matt nods, offering her a small smile, “I know, Kazza, and thanks for that.”

Karen looks at him once more, her eyes searching his face. Satisfied, she gives him a thumbs up and then heads to the front door of his flat.

Arthur pushes himself up from the wall and then smiles at Matt, “Be careful, mate.”

Matt nods again, “I’ll be as careful as I can.”

Arthur snorts, shaking his head as he makes his way to the door. Pulling it open for Karen, he looks at Matt and shakes his head one more time, a faint smile on his face, and then he ushers Karen through the door, closing it softly behind them.

When they’re gone, Matt goes and locks the door of his flat, the soft click sounding oddly loud in the small space.

He moves to his couch and sits down, resting his head on the back of the couch and staring at the ceiling. He feels less shame than he thought he might now that people know. Granted, only two people he consider to be some of his best mates on the planet.

Matt knows they’re right – he knows that if the press gets ahold of this, if they find out he’s been a regular on a sex hotline, no matter the actual nature of his relationship with Alex, they will tear him apart. They already do a good enough job of it without anything even half as juicy, so this would be pounced on and his career would take a hit – it might even end entirely in spectacular flames.

But he’s not so sure that’s even a bad thing – _would you want to be famous?_ The truth is, he’s not sure anymore. He loves acting – he loves his job, but living under a microscope is hard for him; it’s harder than he ever thought it would be. It’s hard for him to live knowing that everything he does is scrutinized, judged by people who will never know him, who will never even care to try.

Losing that, sometimes, doesn’t feel like a scary thing at all – not when he knows they’d judge him for his feelings, for how he came to them, like no skeletons exist in anyone’s closet but his own. Like Alex, whoever she is, is a skeleton at all – like she’s not a flesh and blood person who draws something out of himself he didn’t even know was there.

It’s wild and beautiful and honest and it’s the same thing he thinks he draws out of her; it’s why he thinks she sounds sad sometimes when they talk, because they both know that for right now, that’s all it can ever be. They may only ever have this moment between them, these phone calls, these secrets – these questions that they answer with heartbreaking honesty.

But when he hears her voice he _swears _he would give it all up, relegate himself to performing moderately priced dinner theater for eternity, for the chance to have something longer than a moment with her.

It’s absolute madness for him to say he’d give that up for Alex right now – he knows this, he knows how utterly too soon it is, how utterly ridiculous it is. But there’s something about her – something about _who he is_ when he talks to her – that makes it less so.

He’s never talked to anyone the way he talks to her – it’s never been so easy, never been so sweet, and if it’s madness, then it’s madness. He is mad, then, and he doesn’t care – he doesn’t care how it sounds.

He would give that up – everything – for the possibility of Alex.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello, big boy,” she greets, and she hears his low, sexy chuckle on the other end of the line. It’s an utterly ridiculous nickname, but it makes him laugh and she has come to love that sound. 
> 
> “Hello, Alex,” he greets her back and the sound of her name in his mouth makes heat slide through her body – yes, everything about Matt – whoever he is – is dangerous territory.
> 
> “Can I finally offer you a wank tonight?” She asks, adopting a low and throaty tone.
> 
> She always asks him this one way or another, and his ‘No’ and “Not Tonights’ are becoming decidedly slower. The thought pleases her, honestly.
> 
> “Not tonight,” Matt replies carefully and Alex grins – it’s his slowest response time to her question yet.

Alex Kingston has been watching her computer screen, her eyes fixed on the name of the next caller, for ten solid minutes.

When she’s finally finished with her current call, she hangs up, twists the cap off her water bottle and takes a quick drink before clearing her throat and pointedly ignoring the ridiculous fluttering in her stomach at the name on her screen: _Matt_.

She smiles as she clicks the name, waiting a moment for the call to connect before speaking into her headset.

“Hello, _big boy_,” she greets, and she hears his low, sexy chuckle on the other end of the line. It’s an utterly ridiculous nickname, but it makes him laugh and she has come to love that sound. She’s even stopped using that nickname with her other callers – somehow and quite without her own consent, she began thinking of it as _their _thing and she hasn’t been able to use it with anyone else since. It’s dangerous territory, she knows.

But everything with Matt these days feels like dangerous territory, so she’s rather stopped being surprised by it.

“Hello, Alex,” he greets her back and the sound of her name in his mouth makes heat slide through her body – yes, everything about Matt – whoever he is – is dangerous territory.

“Can I finally offer you a wank tonight?” She asks, adopting a low and throaty tone.

She always asks him this one way or another, and his ‘No’ and “Not Tonights’ are becoming decidedly slower. The thought pleases her, honestly.

The question had started as a lark – as a silly thing to say to the strange and sweet man who calls the sex hotline just to chat. With her.

But soon enough, Alex had found herself ensnared in a web of arousal for this man – in a way she never had been with any of her clients before; even the chattiest of them hadn’t piqued her interest the way Matt had.

Everyone else was just a number on her screen, some faceless man she talked into orgasm for money. She’d never truly been interested in their pleasure, not really, except insofar as ensuring it could lead to them becoming a regular client.

Matt, however, is different – had been since the very first call, if she’s honest, but even more as the weeks wear on. When _he_ says no to a wank, Alex finds herself feeling oddly disappointed; finds herself oddly invested in his pleasure.

She wants to know what he sounds like when he comes – and the thought of making him, the thought of him sitting in his house or his flat touching himself to the sound of her voice – turns her on.

She tries not to think about how unprofessional that actually is. At least for her. She’s always been able to do this job because she keeps everything separate.

Some operators don’t – some make full use of the plush reclining chairs in their small offices and come _with _their clients every chance they get.

Alex never had, though. She’d always been content to fake it – and she was quite good at it, too. But she’d never touched herself – never even had the urge to while talking to a client, no matter how good a client was at dirty talk.

“Not tonight,” Matt replies carefully and Alex grins – it’s his slowest response time to her question yet.

Alex offers a heavy sigh, “Oh, alright,” she lets the disappointment she feels bleed into her voice and hopes he either doesn’t hear it or thinks she’s joking, “What questions have you for me tonight, darling?”

The pet name is strictly reserved for him, too; she’s never let it fall from her lips when speaking to a client – but with him, as with most things, it seems to come naturally. She wonders why she’s not scared of that.

She feels a sense of anticipation flow through her at her question. When Matt first brought it up, she’d been apprehensive. She hadn’t opened up to anyone in a very long time – not since she stopped opening up to her second husband, now ex.

Alex so rarely shares anything of herself these days, tries to keep everything as close to the vest as possible, never letting anyone truly know her – except those she is sure she can trust; even then, she still holds back a bit from them, _just in case_, because she's seen what honesty gets her.

But Matt sounded so sincere when he asked her – when he asked her for the truth – that she couldn’t help but agree.

And give it to him. It would have been so easy to lie to him – so easy to make up answers to these questions. He’d never have known the difference. And at his first question, she’d felt a lie on the tip of her tongue, but in the end, she’d swallowed it, found the truth instead, and given _that _to him.

And in doing so, she handed him a rusted piece of her heart she hadn’t used in a very, very long time.

Every week, it seems, she hands him another piece, and she knows it’s not wise – knows she hardly has any pieces left that belong to her in the first place, knows that nothing can come from it but heartbreak, knows that it will be her own.

But it’s much too late for all of that. And her heart hasn’t been whole in a long time, anyway.

“We’ve got some crackers tonight, Alex,” Matt says, “We’ve gone through all of the easy ones these past few weeks,” he explains, laughing a little. _Weeks_ – they’ve been talking every week for over two months now, “You ready?”

Alex smiles and then sighs, “In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose.”

“Alright,” she hears Matt smile and wonders not for the first time what he looks like.

He’d told her a bit, described himself to her, but she doesn’t have a clear enough picture of him. She wants to see his face, his long chin, his hazel eyes – his smile. She pictures it a bit goofy for some reason, and she wonders how close to the truth that actually is.

She’d resisted the urge to look these questions up on the internet, the ones he’s reading from – she liked being surprised by Matt. Liked not having an answer prepared – liked opening up to him. She feels safe with him – and she knows it’s a fool’s errand, knows it can’t possibly be true, knows how silly it is.

He is little more than a stranger on the other end of the phone. But, god help her, there are nights when he feels like so much more than that. Nights when she _wonders_.

Matt clears his throat and she hears a bit of shuffling on the other end of the phone and she pictures him adjusting himself on the couch, “If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?”

Alex breathes out quietly – she thinks about this rather a lot, actually. She spends a lot of time imagining the qualities she’d like to have, “Like a superpower?” She asks, trying to buy a bit of time; trying to figure out exactly how honest she’d like to be with him tonight.

“Like anything,” she can _hear _the shrug in his shoulders.

“Um…” She trails off, biting her lip as is her habit.

Clearly sensing her hesitation, Matt speaks, “Would you like me to go first?” His tone is gentle, sweet – he speaks to her with such _care _sometimes that it astounds her.

“Please,” she whispers, nodding her head even though he can’t see her.

He is silent for a moment, thinking, “I would want to be fearless,” Matt answers quietly, his voice steady but slightly unsure down the line and Alex wonders if maybe this is hard for him, too, opening up like this.

“What kind of fearless?” Alex asks – she has often wished that same thing of herself now even knowing that some fear can be healthy – some fear can keep you safe. She _was _fearless, once, and she’d lost everything.

“Are there different kinds?” He asks, laughing a bit, “I don’t know – just – sometimes I feel so scared of everything and – god, nobody really knows this – but it paralyzes me sometimes. I fear failure – I didn’t always, but then I failed and it wasn’t even my fault,” his voice breaks a bit on the end of the line and Alex’s heart clenches at the sound, “But I saw how people looked at me like they… they felt sorry for me, and I hate seeing that look on other people, in the mirror,” He sighs, “But I don’t want the fear of failure to hold me back and it hasn’t, not in a very long time, but it’s still _there _sometimes, you know?” He finishes, and she wishes she could wrap him in her arms.

“I do know, darling,” Alex says – _more than you might know_, she thinks. “But if you recognize it – if you know this is a thing inside of yourself you have to fight against,” She leans forward on her desk, “That’s half the battle.”

“God,” Matt breathes out, and Alex swears she can hear the awe in his voice, “You’re so… I don’t even _know _what you are, Alex, but _god _I lo… like it.”

Alex feels her heart hammer in her chest at his words and she forces herself to calm down, to breathe deeply as she lets out a little laugh, “I’m so glad you do.”

Matt makes a sound of agreement and then clears his throat, “What’s your answer, then?” He asks, his voice still sounding slightly faraway, though she can’t figure out quite why.

She takes a deep steadying breath – she wonders again how honest she should be with him, how much she should give – but he’d just admitted something that was clearly very hard for him to admit and what’s one more piece of herself – one more piece of her heart – given away to him, anyway.

“If I could be anything,” Alex whispers into her headset, as though whispering will make it hurt less to say, “I’d be strong,” she finishes quietly.

“You don’t think you’re strong?” Matt asks, and she pictures a furrow in her brow.

Alex laughs self-deprecatingly at that, “I know I’m not.”

“Why?” He questions her softly and she knows he’s trying not to push too hard.

“I fall apart, Matt, all the time. At everything – it’s just… who I’ve always been, which is a bit funny because I don’t think that’s how the world sees me,” she shakes her head, thinking of all the people who never really knew her, “I want to be strong – so strong, I do. But everything hurts so much, all the time. Sometimes it feels like I don’t know how I have any tears left.”

She feels on the verge of tears now, in fact, admitting this to him – it’s not something she’s told anyone except her husbands and only because they lived with her and saw it first hand, her vulnerability. She wonders if there’s such a thing as too honest, if she’s being too open, and maybe she is – maybe she should hang up the phone and block his number, but the situation feels too full of hope to do that. She feels on the verge of – something indefinable, as ridiculous as that sounds.

Matt is silent for a long moment and Alex swallows around the emotion suddenly welling in her throat, wondering if she should backpedal, if she should try to dig her way out of this hole. But she can see no way out, so she just swallows again and waits. It feels like minutes, but it’s only seconds before he speaks.

“There are different kinds of strengths, Alex,” Matt says finally, and his voice is even, calm, “It takes courage to fall apart, sometimes,” he sighs, and she wonders what sort of nervous habits he might have, wonders if he’s doing one of them now, “Strength… it just doesn’t look the same on everyone, Alex, maybe… maybe your bravery is in being vulnerable. And there’s no shame in that.”

She feels her eyes burn and blinks against the tears, but it’s no use; she is crying now, the tears are rolling down her cheeks and how ridiculous is she that a few nice words from a stranger can make her weep?

She swipes at the tears, but she smiles because her heart feels like it’s blooming instead of breaking and _god _is that new at the hands of a man; how many men in her life have made her feel like her vulnerability is a weakness? How many men in her life had made her feel like her tears were little more than a weapon of manipulation she wielded against them? How many men had asked her to keep it together, to be stronger, to be _more_?

And here was Matt – sweet, lovely, almost assuredly young Matt – telling her the opposite and he doesn’t even _know _her. Except he does – in ways no one has in a very, very long time.

“Matt?” She whispers to hide the tears in her voice, “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, Alex,” Matt whispers back.

_Oh, but there is_, she longs to say – but she doesn’t, just stays silent, still wiping away her tears and waiting for them to subside.

“One more question for the night?” Matt asks, and his voice sounds raw and so sweet.

“Sure,” Alex answers, licking her lips, the excitement and nerves playing tug of war with each other in her stomach.

“Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?”

Alex suddenly feels like there’s no air left in the room because _there are so many things_. Her life is a giant poster for things she dreamt of doing but never really did – when she was a little girl, she never imagined that at 49 she’d have so many regrets. She’s happy in so many ways, truly happy, but there are so many things she never got around to doing, always stopped by one thing or another.

“Oh, darling,” she sighs into the phone and hopes her voice doesn’t sound as sad as she thinks it might, “So many things.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks quietly, “Like what?”

Alex lets out a gentle laugh, “I used to… dream of being an actress, actually.”

Matt is strangely quiet, and she suddenly wonders if she’s somehow said the wrong thing before he finally clears his throat, “What happened?”

“Oh,” She twirls the cord of her mouse around her finger, “My first husband was an actor – he got famous, left me behind, quite literally – and I… well, I took more time than I should have to recover. By then, I suppose I thought I’d left it all too late.”

“Your daughter’s father?” Matt asks, and Alex finds it strange that she’s not shocked by the personal question.

She shakes her head, “No, thank god,” then she laughs, a bit self-deprecatingly, “I’ve got two ex-husbands, actually.”

“Idiots,” Matt laughs, “The both of them.”

Alex smiles, rolling her eyes fondly because really, he doesn’t even know her. Doesn’t know that she certainly bears some of the blame, at least for the last one ending, “Thank you for your support, darling.”

“It’s funny,” Matt says after a moment of silence, “How we think things will take too long – but those years… they pass anyway, don’t they?” He asks the question quietly, and it sounds almost rhetorical.

“Yes,” she answers anyway, because she’s rapidly approaching fifty and she’s never felt time clawing at her back quite the way it does now.

She hears the one minute warning beep and she knows that Matt’s heard it, too.

“Speaking of time,” he chuckles, “Feels like I never have enough with you.”

Alex laughs into the line, “Well, you could always _pay for more_, darling,” she teases, but she knows exactly how he feels. She looks forward to his calls all week and feels an unbearable sense of sadness when they draw to a close.

“Ouch,” he whispers into the phone, but he laughs on the next breath, “Don’t you know how to make a bloke feel special?”

Alex drops her voice, “I’ve been telling you I _really_ do, but you refuse to let me prove it to you.”

Matt sucks in a breath on the other end of the line, “And it’s getting harder by the call.”

Alex chuckles, “Oh… _Is it now_?”

“God, Alex, your voice sounds like pure sex and you’re so… so… _you_, and… of course it bloody is.”

She smiles, “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Alex?” They only have a few seconds left before the call will disconnect.

“Yes?” She whispers into the phone.

“Nothing is ever left too late.” He says, “Not really,” she imagines him shaking his head and she smiles, “Thanks for the chat, love. Goodnight.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, the line cuts off and she finds herself sitting, staring at her computer, a grin spreading across her face. Her face feels warm and her heart feels light and _oh_, she is in so much trouble, but she can’t even care because for the first time in ages she feels happy.

She’s still grinning as she takes her headset off and sets it on the desk – blinking a bit dreamily and thinking of Matt, wondering who he is, what he does, who he loves in the hours he’s not on the phone with her.

“Uh oh,” the deep male voice startles her a bit and she jerks her head to the side where she sees her coworker standing in the doorway of her office, leaning against the doorjamb.

He’d obviously opened her door without her realizing it – he knows her well enough to know she never makes use of the reclining chair in her office and never locks her door.

The smile drops from her lips, but her cheeks still hurt from it, “Uh oh what?”

John Barrowman narrows his eyes at her as he pushes himself up from the wall and steps further into her office, “Who were you talking to?” He drops himself in her reclining chair with a flourish.

Alex clears her throat and leans around her computer monitor and glares at him, “No one.”

“Uh huh,” John fiddles with the controls on the reclining chair and Alex watches as he leans back, fixing her with a hard stare and pursed lips, “Didn’t look like no one,” He leans his head back, his eyes rolling to the side, still watching her.

“It was a client, if you must know.” Alex says, exasperated.

They were due to have lunch today – and she’d completely forgotten in the face of Matt’s call. John was her only friend at work – but, more than that, he’d somehow morphed from mere coworker to actual friend. They saw each other outside of work frequently, and when they had time off, they were frequently at each other’s flats watching bad telly and eating good take away.

“I repeat my uh oh and say it a _lot _more emphatically if you were talking to a client.” He sits up a bit in the chair and looks at her.

She ducks her head back behind the monitor, feeling a bit sheepish because she knows he’s right. Of course he’s right – she never should have let herself get in so deep with a client, but it’s far too late now.

“It’s _fine_, John,” she says exasperatedly as she opens the drawer of her desk and takes her wallet out, jamming it in her purse that is slung over the back of the chair.

John fiddles with the remote of the chair again and there is a faint buzzing sound in the small office that finally quits when he’s sitting up right, “And what does he think your name is, Alex?”

Alex feels herself flush, and she looks down at her desk, picking her pen up and pretending to make some kind of note. She knows she isn’t fooling John – he’s one of her best friends by now and he knows her inside and out.

“Alex…” He says sternly, “You did not tell this client your _real name_.” He says it like a statement, not a question.

She shrugs, “He asked and I… _yes_, I told him,” she looks at John, tossing her pen on her desk, suddenly a bit angry, “Okay? I told him my name – he knows my name is Alex and he knows I have a daughter and he knows I’ve been divorced twice and… I know it’s stupid, okay? _I know_.”

John stares at her for a minute, his mouth hanging slightly open, “You and I both know you’re not stupid – but… that’s the cardinal rule, Alex. This guy, he could be… using you,” John leans over in the chair, dropping his head to meet her eyes, “He could be trying to get… free sessions or something, you know how these guys are.”

“It’s not like that!” Alex’s voice echoes in the small office and she’s grateful that John shut the door when he came in. Most of their coworkers don’t know how to mind their business. At John’s disapproving look, Alex feels herself become defensive, “It’s _not_! We’ve been talking for months now and we haven’t even… he hasn’t even…” Alex trails off, suddenly flushed.

She’s never been shy about sex – obviously not, since she works as a sex phone operator, but it feels different to be talking about Matt like this. She’d come to think of their phone calls as private – as something shared between just the two of them, whatever they did or didn’t do during them.

John is clearly stunned, at a loss for words, and John is _never _at a loss for words. Finally, he shakes his head, “He’s been phoning a sex hotline for months and hasn’t _wanked_?”

Alex bites her lip and shakes her head, “It’s… we just _talk_, John, it’s… nice.”

John crosses his legs and leans his elbow on his knee, resting his chin on his hand, “Okay,” he says carefully, and Alex’s eyes snap to his, “Just… be careful Alex.”

She smiles at him like it’s not already too late for that warning, like she hasn’t already fallen too deep in with him, Matt, this stranger on the other end of the line who makes her feel at ease in a way nobody ever has – who makes her feel like she can open up and be herself.

John considers her for a long moment before he finally stands up, steps around her desk, and holds his hand out to her, “Come on, then,” she takes his hand and he pulls her up from her seat, slinging an arm around her, “I’ll buy you lunch and you can tell me all about it.”

They walk to the little café that’s open all night at the end of the block hand in hand, and when they get to their usual table, they order their usual meal and a large pot of coffee to try to stay awake until their shifts end.

And much to her surprise, Alex _does _tell John about it – she tells him about Matt’s first call, about the time he was interrupted by his friends, about the questions they answer to each other – how she finds herself actually _wanting _to open up to him despite the fact that she knows it’s utterly ridiculous.

John listens with interest, nodding his head, laughing along, and Alex feels glad to finally have someone to talk about this with. It’s been eating her alive, actually, holding this inside, and she’s happy to see that despite the initial misgivings, John appears to not be judging her. He’s usually pretty great like that.

When John’s paid the check, they sit and sip their coffee, staring at each other over the mugs.

“It feels like… I don’t know, this might sound stupid but… it feels like he sees me.” Alex shrugs, setting her mug down and looking in it, “It feels like I’ve been missing that for a very long time.”

John is quiet on the other side of the table, and Alex looks up from her mug to find him watching her, “I see you, Alex,” he whispers softly.

She smiles at him, “I know you do, John – believe me, I know – but it’s _different_,” At his indignant look, she rolls her eyes, “You know that it is.”

John brings his hand to his heart, “It’s because I’m gay, isn’t it.”

Alex smirks over the rim of her mug, “That,” she agrees, “And because you have a partner,” she shrugs, “Someone to share everything with – I _miss _that.”

“So you choose a client.” John snorts, shaking his head.

She narrows her eyes, “I didn’t do it on bloody _purpose_. It just happened. Quite unexpectedly, I might add.”

John sighs, “Just…” He trails off at her expression – he’d been about to warn her to be careful again, “Tread lightly.” He finishes, smiling at her.

She laughs, shaking her head – as though it wasn’t entirely too late for that, too. As though they hadn’t been answering questions from something called _36 Questions to Ask to Fall in Love_ for weeks now. As if it wasn’t bloody well working, at least as far as she was concerned.

They walk back to work hand in hand again, laughing, and Alex feels a bit lighter having talked about it – about this madness she feels in her heart for her faceless client she knows only as Matt, and for the butterflies he gives her just with the sound of his voice.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt finally takes Alex up on her offer.
> 
> (this chapter is NSFW).

Alex spends the next few weeks existing in a state of limbo before Matt’s calls. She spends the first half of the week giddy on the last call and the second half of the week eagerly anticipating the next.

She feels like a ridiculous schoolgirl with a crush, but she can’t help it. Talking to Matt is easy – it’s easier than it’s ever been with a client, certainly, but beyond that it’s easier than it’s ever been with anyone, period.

They steadily work their way through the list until she feels like she knows every last personal detail about him. Except his last name and where he works, but those details don’t matter. She’d never thought about it before, but _those _are the superfluous details, the least important things about a person in the end.

They share _so much more than that_.

She shares with him, too; finds herself opening up to him in unexpected ways and she rarely ever even stops to think whether this connection she’s formed with a client is healthy or appropriate anymore.

The truth is, she doesn’t much care. She _likes _talking to Matt. He makes her laugh, he makes her feel comfortable – makes her feel open and vulnerable and like it’s safe for her to be that way with him.

Alex hasn’t told anyone except John about it of course, and he asks her about it frequently enough. It’s clear he’s concerned – clients trying to get close to an operator for free sessions isn’t exactly unheard of, but he doesn’t know Matt. He doesn’t know his heart, what makes him laugh, his innermost thoughts. How good-hearted and _kind _he is.

Sometimes, her subconscious thoughts taunt her, remind her that she doesn’t, either. Know him. Not really.

But there are other days she thinks she knows him better than she’s ever known anyone.

They’ve been talking for three months now, every single Friday, and he’s still not taken her up on her offer for phone sex. It’s frustrating her a bit, if she’s really honest – she finds herself wanting to please him.

Alex finds herself endlessly curious about what he sounds like when he comes. Oddly curious about what would _make _him come.

She always asks, every session, but she doesn’t push it. She doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, and she does love their chats just as they are. Loves learning about him - loves… well.

Maybe the questions work a bit more than she’d initially given them credit for.

Maybe the questions are why she finds herself dressed up on Fridays, with her hair done, sexy lingerie under her flattering dress even though he can’t see her. Perhaps the questions are why she’s housing a group of butterflies in her stomach all night- whose wings constantly flutter, their fervor growing exponentially the closer it gets to Matt’s usual call-in time.

She smiles when she sees his name appear on her screen and she goes through the motions with her current caller until she hangs up, satisfied.

Alex clears her throat, takes a sip of water, and fluffs her hair. She knows it’s silly because of course he can’t see her bloody hair, but she doesn’t care.

She answers his call with a smile, “One whole hour today, _big boy_?” She chuckles, “Aren’t I a lucky girl?”

Matt lets out a small chuckle, “I’m the lucky one, I think,” he sighs, “Just the sound of your voice calms me.”

Alex’s brow knits, “Everything okay, darling?”

She hears rustling on the other end of the phone and imagines Matt in his nebulous flat, adjusting himself to get comfortable, “I had a crap week, actually,” he admits but doesn’t elaborate and she doesn’t pry, “I had to beg off from my friends and talk to you tonight,” he sounds tired, but still somehow happy, “I _really _like talking to you, Alex.”

He sounds so genuine and Alex smiles, “I like talking to you too.” And it’s true. Sometimes it scares her how much she likes talking to him, “Where’d we leave off, then?” She asks, leaning back in her chair and kicking her feet up on her desk. She’s secretly thrilled that she has more time than usual with Matt tonight.

“You almost sound excited about the questions, now,” He types on his computer, presumably pulling up the questions.

Alex rolls her eyes, “That’s because I _am_ excited about these questions, Matt,” she always has been, honestly, but the more she gets to know him the more excited she gets.

Matt laughs, the sound slow and easy, and Alex briefly wonders when that sound became one of her very favorites, “Alright, if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future, or anything else, what would you want to know?”

“Ooh,” Alex breathes the word out, looking up at the ceiling in contemplation, “Not the ending.”

“Like to be surprised, do you?” Matt asks, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

“A bit,” She agrees, though she doesn’t tell him that her desire to remain in the dark has more to do with fear of how her life will turn out than anything else. She doesn’t want to know the ending if it isn’t a happy one. She’s had enough sad endings in her life, “But if I could ask it one thing,” she grins wickedly, letting seduction fall into her voice, “It would be: Is Matt _ever _going to take me up on my offer of having a wank?”

She’s aiming for levity, but _god_, she really _does_ want to know.

Matt draws in a ragged breath, and she hears it catch in his throat. He hesitates, and the realization thrills her more than it should. He’s a client, nothing more, but she’s secretly been longing to hear her come for her for weeks now.

“I already know the answer to that one,” Matt replies roughly.

“Do you?” Her own voice sounds breathy, husky, but she doesn’t care.

“Do you want to know what_ I’d_ ask the crystal ball, Alex? Right now?” His voice is deeper and gruffer than she’s ever heard it and it pools heat low in her abdomen.

“What?” The word comes out on a sigh, but Matt doesn’t comment.

“What do you look like, Alex?” He whispers, “That’s what I want to know – that’s my burning question for the universe tonight.”

Alex feels the heat spread at the tone of his voice. Somehow it’s taken on this unbelievable combination of needy and commanding, striking the perfect balance.

“Why?” She questions, her stomach lurching excitedly at his possible answer.

Matt pauses, and Alex wishes for the thousandth time that she could actually _see _him, “I want to see who I wank to.”

“Tonight,” it sounds like a question as it falls from her lips, and she takes a moment to pretend she doesn’t know what answer she’s hoping for.

“Tonight,” Matt confirms, “Every night we talk after we’ve hung up. In the middle of the bloody week when I can’t sleep, when all I can hear is your voice down the line, playing in my memory.”

Alex doesn’t speak, Matt’s words have stolen her voice, made her throat suddenly dry. She’s done the exact same thing; touched herself while picturing some abstract version of Matt for weeks on end now. All she has to go by is his voice and his description of himself, but she’s found that fueled by her affection for him, it’s enough.

“Describe yourself to me,” Matt sounds pleading and Alex quite likes the sound of that. Would like to hear him beg for _other _things.

“I can do you one better,” Alex clicks her computer to life and navigates to her password protected desktop folder.

When they’re hired with this particular agency, they take professional photos – updated every six months. They’re sensual, meant to entice clients to book more sessions and able to be sent out to a client’s email address at an operator’s discretion.

Alex has been doing this job for a little over two years now, and she’s never even considered sending her _real _picture to a client. Even when her regulars begged, she’d send them some fresh-faced stranger – one of the other girls (with her permission, of course) or a stock photo okayed for distribution by legal. She’d never even felt guilty about it, never wanted any of her clients to have access to any part of her, real or imagined.

But she doesn’t want to be guarded like that with Matt. Strangely, she wants him to _see her_. He already does anyway, but she wants him to know it’s _her _he’s talking to. The real her – _Alex_.

“Are you able to access the e-mail account you gave when you first called?”

Matt taps a few strokes out on his computer, “I am,” he confirms.

Alex smiles, “Good. Would you like a picture of me, then?” She hears his hesitation and reads it accurately, rolling her eyes, “A _real _picture of me?”

“God, yes,” the excitement is evident in Matt’s voice and it sends electricity jolting through her blood.

She looks quickly at the photos before selecting one that feels just a bit naughty. She’s wearing a blush pink lace bra with black accents, her cleavage pushing up as she looks seductively at the camera. She’s wearing a pencil skirt, but just the bra on top – it’s sensual and sexy and she opens up an email and attaches the photo. She drags Matt’s contact information into the _to: _line, the butterflies rooting around in her stomach.

She clicks send at the exact same time she says, “Alright, it’s on its way.”

Alex feels nervous – a bit of a thrill shooting up her spine because this is the first time a client will ever actually see her. She bites her lip as she hears the chime of new mail on Matt’s end of the line. She holds her breath, wondering if he’ll like her picture, fearful that she won’t be what he was hoping for.

Clearly fully regressed to a schoolgirl now, she listens intently as he clicks the mail and presumably pulls up the picture. _Her _picture.

When silence reigns on the line, Alex feels the dread move in on the butterflies in her stomach, surrounding them.

“Matt?” Her voice is more timid than she’d like.

Matt breathes out into the phone, “Bloody hell, Alex,” he shifts on the other end of the line, clothes rustling around in the background, “You’re sodding _gorgeous_.”

Alex smiles, more pleased than she’d ever admit that Matt seems to like what he sees, “Thank you.” She speaks quietly, and if her voice sounds bashful, he doesn’t mention it.

“Your _hair_ – it’s magnificent, like bloody _magic_,” Matt sounds stunned as he speaks, and she can’t help herself, she giggles, shaking her head as he continues, “And your eyes – god, you weren’t lying about their color. Beautiful,” he carries on for a good five minutes, noticing details of the picture, complimenting her and Alex feels her heart swell in her chest.

“Thank you, darling, you’re being very sweet,” She chuckles into the phone, thankful he can’t see her blush. She hasn’t been on the receiving end of so many compliments from a man in a very, very long time. And she knows they’re genuine coming from Matt.

“You were wrong,” Matt speaks quietly.

“What?”

“That first night we talked. You said that I should at least picture my dream girl, but you were wrong. You’re exactly… I wouldn’t have even known what to ask for without seeing you. You’re… Christ, Alex, you’re unparalleled.”

Alex’s breath stutters in her chest because he sounds so _sincere_ – sounds like he could make her believe him. The words are caught in her throat, so she just stays silent on the line.

“And the _lingerie_…” His voice dips lower and Alex’s stomach drops with it.

“Like that, do you?”

“More than _like_. Your breasts…”

A slow smile spreads across her face, “Tits, darling,” she whispers, mouth suddenly so dry, “Call them my _tits_.”

Matt is quiet for a moment, and Alex waits with bated breath. Finally, he releases a low chuckle into the phone that nestles itself into her stomach, “Is that a secret of yours, Alex? Do you like dirty talk?”

She _never _shares true intimate details about herself with her clients, even when they ask. They frequently ask her what turns her on, and she always throws it back to them, agreeing with whatever their secret desires are, pretending they’re her desires too.

But not with Matt – she wants this as much as he does. Maybe even more, given how long he’s held out. She will tell him every single one of her fantasies and kinks if he asks.

“Yes,” she whispers, drawing her lip between her teeth in excitement and anticipation.

She hears a rustling on the other end of the line, as though he’s setting his computer aside.

“What a coincidence – because I quite like to talk.”

A rush of wetness floods between her thighs and she bites her lip harder to keep from moaning. He’s not even _said _all that much, but god, the _way _he’s said it.

“What do you want, Matt?” she finally asks him because no matter how connected to him she feels, no matter how different he is, he is still her client paying for a service.

“You.” He answers simply, his voice gruff, “I want you, spread out before me,” he nearly growls the word, “Ready to be pleased. I want your pleasure, Alex.”

She clicks the wireless option on her headset and makes her way to the chair she’s never used except to catch little cat naps between clients.

Alex slides into the plush leather chair and reclines it, relaxing back into the buttery softness as it surrounds her. She feels a frisson of excitement pass through her body and she has _never _felt excitement like this for a client. She feels nervous, slightly unsure, and as she thinks about what to say, she doesn’t stop to wonder if it’s odd that right now it doesn’t _feel _like she does this for a living. For a job.

Trying to shake off the nerves, Alex speaks into her headset, tells Matt the fantasy she’s been living in her head for weeks, “I’d like to take you in my mouth, Matt,” she whispers, and the arousal thrums in her blood, “I’d love to know what you taste like on my tongue.”

Matt swears softly, “Christ, I’d like that, Alex. I’d like to slide into your mouth, find out what else it can do besides get me hard as a bloody rock by your voice alone.”

Alex bites her lip, imagining it, “_Are_ you hard, Matt?” She asks, letting every ounce of the desire she feels for him slide into her voice.

“God, yes,” he groans, “Have been since you answered the bloody phone. Your voice drips sex, love.”

She grins, idly caressing her collarbone, “That’s not the only thing that’s dripping right now, darling,” And she’s not even _lying_, she’s so wet thinking about Matt.

Matt inhales sharply, “Are you really?” He groans the words out but she can hear the trepidation.

She understands it. She tells clients she’s wet for them every single night when she isn’t. When she never has been for a client before.

“Mhmm,” she confirms, shifting in her chair, trying in vain to relieve some of the pressure building between her thighs, “Are you going to stroke yourself for me, Matt?” Are you going to wank until you come listening to me tell you what I’d do to you if we were alone?”

“No,” he breathes the word out and Alex feels the disappointment settle in, “I’m going to wank telling you what _I’d_ like to do to_ you_, Alex,” his voice is thick with desire and she hears the distinct sound of a zipper before he pauses, “Is that alright with you?”

Alex is speechless for a moment. Usually clients are only interested in hearing her talk about what she’d like to do to them; she should have known Matt would be different, “Yes,” she whispers, breathless already and desperately trying to keep her hand out of her knickers, interested in the buildup, wanting to hear Matt talk to her.

“Good,” Matt says, and there’s rustling on his end and Alex imagines that he has himself in hand.

“Is your hand around your cock?”

Matt chuckles, “It is. It’s achingly hard already just thinking about you – hearing you, looking at that picture of you. Does that turn you on? Knowing I’m holding my cock for you?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he says it with a smirk, she can hear it, “Your _tits _look like they’re spilling out of your bra in this photograph, Alex. Tell me, are they very sensitive? Your _tits_?” He emphasizes the word she told him to use and every time he does, she feels a pang of arousal between her legs.

“Yes,” she confirms, nodding her head, her hand dancing delicately over her own décolletage. The sound of his voice is driving her mad.

“I’d like to touch them,” Matt whispers into the phone and his voice is raw with desire, “Feel the weight of them in my hands, stroking you softly. Roll your nipples between my fingers, pulling and pinching until you cry out.”

At some point while he’s been talking, Alex’s hands have followed his path – she rolls her pebbled nipples between her fingers before pinching hard, just as Matt said he would, until she cries out.

“Oh yes, Alex,” Matt breathes, “That’s it. I’d like to use my mouth on your _tits_ – I’d like to pull your nipples between my teeth,” he grunts into the phone and Alex’s breath catches. He’s touching himself, and she’s never been more aroused by the idea of a client – of any man, really – touching himself to thoughts of her, “Would you like that?”

“God, yes,” Alex moans into the phone, her hands still moving against her breasts. She tugs at her nipples, pretends her fingers are Matt’s teeth biting down on her flesh.

Matt pauses for a moment and Alex squirms in her chair, waiting with bated breath for what he will say next.

“I’m _very _good with my mouth, Alex, have I told you that?” He chuckles loudly into the phone at her sharp intake of breath because _no_, he hadn’t told her that, “What are you wearing?”

“A white button down shirt and a black skirt,” she smiles into the phone, her voice dropping low, “Lacy knickers and bra.”

“Can you put your hand down your skirt for me?”

Alex doesn’t hesitate – she’s been resisting the urge to touch herself to Matt’s voice for weeks now, “Yes,” she nods, sliding her hand into the waistband of her skirt. She feels herself through the lacy fabric of her knickers and confirms what she already knew: she’s dripping wet. She gasps as she presses the damp, cool fabric into herself.

“God, Matt,” she whispers, fingers pressing against herself, “I’m so wet for you.”

Matt groans and she hears him shift, imagines his erect cock in his hand as he strokes himself. “I want to _taste_ you, Alex. I want to lap up every single sweet drop from your wet cunt with my tongue,” Alex inhales sharply at the dirty word and arousal jolts through her; she is _throbbing _against her fingers, “Would you like that? My face buried under your skirt? My fingers pushing aside your knickers so my tongue can taste you? Can slide inside you?” Alex murmurs some incoherent version of ‘yes, dear god yes,’ and Matt chuckles again, “Do you want me to _tongue fuck_ you?”

Alex moans, her hand slipping into her knickers as she touches herself, flesh on flesh – he really _is _good with his mouth. Even his voice does unholy things to her.

“Yes,” the word comes out on a breathless moan and she sounds so wanton and on the edge of losing control, but she doesn’t care.

“Are you touching yourself?” His voice is coated with clear arousal and Alex slips her fingers through her wetness, moaning out her answer to him.

“Me too,” Matt whispers, his voice rough, “I’m stroking myself, thinking about burying my face in your cunt – making you come with my tongue on your clit as I fuck you with my fingers; I’ve got long fingers, Alex, and I want to feel you clench around them as I wring every ounce of pleasure from your sexy body.”

Inspired by his words, by his rough voice speaking so illicitly, Alex slips a finger into herself and gasps, rocking her hips up so that her clit presses against the heel of her hand. She’s right on the edge, Matt’s voice in her ear ratcheting up her desire.

“Are you going to come for me, Alex?” Matt asks – it’s a tame question, really, but the _way _he asks it makes it sound like the dirtiest question she’s ever been asked.

“Yes,” she groans, grinding herself against her hand, “I’m going to come for you, Matt. I’m going to come imagining your face between my thighs, your tongue on my cunt, tasting me.”

Matt groans, and she can _hear _his hand working his length. Can hear the slide of his palm over his own flesh and the sound is so erotic coming from him. It’s never done anything for her before, this sound, but in _his _hands it’s so incredibly sexy.

“Me too,” he grunts, “I’m going to come imagining your sweet taste on my tongue. I’m going to spill all over my hand thinking about _you_, Alex.”

The image he paints is so erotic that it sends her barreling over the edge. She comes with a long moan as she presses the heel of her hand against herself, her other hand shoved into her bra as she pinches and twists her nipple. “Matt,” she groans his name as another wave of pleasure washes over her.

“God, Alex,” Matt’s hand works faster – she can _hear _it – and Alex presses her hand against her clit, a small shudder running through her body, “Did you just come saying my name?”

Alex grins, languidly drawing her hand back up her body – she nods, biting her lip, “Yes,” she confirms, then draws her finger into her mouth, noisily sucking it clean, “I’m tasting myself now, sucking my finger clean,” she explains, her tone seductive, “Only because you aren’t here to do it for me, of course.”

“I would,” Matt pants, “_God_, I would.”

“Are you going to come for me now, Matt?” She draws his name out, and she’s so close to hearing what he sounds like in ecstasy. She smirks, “I want to taste you too, you know. Want to find out if you taste like I imagine you would as you spill onto my tongue.”

“Christ, Alex,” he’s speaking through gritted teeth and she knows he’s close – _so close_.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like to come in my mouth? Like for me to swallow every single drop you give me down my throat?”

“Alex!” He shouts and his hand stills for a moment before it pumps again. The noises drawn from his throat are so much sexier than she imagined. He sounds enchanting as he comes, little moans and whimpers falling into the phone and Alex smiles, playing with one of her curls as she waits for his pleasure to subside.

“Jesus, Alex,” he chuckles, clearly trying to catch his breath, “I haven’t come that hard in…” he trails off, “Christ, I don’t think I’ve _ever _come that hard, honestly.”

Alex laughs, adjusting her skirt back down, “Same here, darling.”

And though she frequently tells clients how hard they made her come, _this _time, she’s not lying. _This _time, it’s true.

She settles into the reclining chair, still in her post-orgasmic haze. She wishes Matt were here so she could nuzzle into his chest, draw lazy circles over his skin. She doesn’t stop to think about how dangerous or silly that line of thinking is. She just _feels _it, and allows it of herself.

“That was… you are incredible,” Matt speaks slowly into the phone, his voice lazy with pleasure.

Alex almost makes a joke, something along the lines of _I should hope so, it’s my job_, but she stops herself. Foolish though it may be, she doesn’t want that between them right now. She doesn’t want to remind Matt of their unique situation – doesn’t want to remind him that he’s paying her for her time. She doesn’t want him thinking of her as a phone sex operator even though that’s precisely what she _is_.

That’s not what it feels like when they talk. It feels like so much more than a transaction. She can only hope it’s not one-sided. It doesn’t feel like it is. It feels like Matt considers her in a different light, but god knows she’s been wrong before.

In fact, her life has rather been _defined _by being wrong about men.

She smiles, “So are you.”

The warning beep sounds on the line and Alex feels a wave of disappointment rush through her. She doesn’t want to hang up tonight – wants to be as close to him as possible, even if it’s just over the phone.

Alex shouldn’t ask, doesn’t _want _to ask, but the words bubble up her throat before she can stop them, “Same time next week?” She’s holding her breath, and she feels even more ridiculous for asking.

But there is no hesitation, “Absolutely.”

She can hear the smile in his voice and she smiles too, simultaneously relieved and pleased by his answer.

“Good.”

“Alex?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” she’s about to ask him what for, but he continues, “Not for the orgasm. I mean, yes, for the orgasm. But… for the picture. For…” he trails off and she _really _wishes she could see him, “Just… thank you.”

“Goodnight, Matt,” she replies, smiling before she clicks the button to end the call.

Alex is giddy for the rest of her shift. She feels like a schoolgirl with a crush and she doesn’t even care.

The week passes in a haze of anticipation. She confesses to John that she finally used the chair in her office and he is shocked and impressed as he presses her for details which she steadfastly refuses to disclose.

By the time Friday night rolls around and the butterflies begin in her stomach, she can no longer deny what she has feared for weeks. She has a full-fledged _crush _on Matt. She fears it may actually be worse than that, even, but she refuses to think more about it. Refuses to put a ridiculous name to it.

However, as the minutes of her shift tick by, as their usual time comes and goes and his name does not populate on her screen, Alex knows the devastating truth with a heavy heart.

She has _feelings _for Matt, for her _client._ As she walks into the night air after her shift, after the first time in months he didn’t call, Alex knows another truth. She was wrong. Again.

When he doesn’t call again the next week, she abandons all hope that had begun to bloom in her chest that maybe it had been a fluke.

In a lifetime of being wrong about men, it seems Matt was just the latest name to add to her list. It shouldn’t hurt so much; she doesn’t even _know _him, has never even met him. But as she invites John round to her flat for ice cream and take away and sad chick flicks, and as John pointedly does not ask questions, she can’t deny that it _does _hurt.

The ache in her chest is as real as anything she’s ever felt and, she knows, it won’t be filled with ice cream. But it won’t stop her from trying, anyway, from curling up with a pint or six until she can at least pretend to forget the man she never met, but still somehow thought she knew.


End file.
